Ashtray

Generic words and hallmark quotes work for some but this is life,not a bed of roses.
Not a bed of feathers and romance.
It's an unmade bed with all of the stains, creases and smells from last nights empty fire and passion.

Filth ridden and laced with disgust the soul powers to stretch and break all limits and moulds.
Acceptance in society is what you want isn't it?
To be accepted is to conform, to conform is to be contained and to be contained is to clip your wings.
A bird with out wings is just a ball of feathers thrown to the wind.
You can.
No matter what they say.
You can.
You can fly.

Now, take a breath and catch your thoughts. You are not what they say you are. Not the oil painting they exhibit you to be.
Blistering sounds will always break awkward silences. A smoke filled room is where I loved, in simplicity.
The rawness and reality is what I feasted on, our twisted souls laid bare, exposed.
Not hearts.
Chocolates.
Or flowers.
This is not a fairytale.

Take a final drag on the joint, flick the ash, stub the roach.
It all ends the same, burnt and smoldering. Blackened.
Your scent still on my breath.